End Roll
by Seirei Ishtar
Summary: [One Shot]Memories like that should remain forgotten. [Luxord Centric][KHThe SandmanBedknobs and Broomsticks Crossover]


Just a warning. This fic is very...odd. And probably more than a little confusing if you don't know who certain characters are.

This was written for various reasons. One was that I wanted to put my own spin on what Luxord's past may have been like. And I wanted to use an England set movie that I hadn't seen him written in yet. Thus, we have Disney's Bedknobs and Broomsticks. I loved that movie so much as a child, and I feel it deserves at least _some_ recognition.

The second reason? ...I just wanted a reason to crossover KH with The Sandman. Best. Comic. Series. _Ever_. (fangirls over the Corinthian)

Yes, I realize this fic probably failed horribly, but at least I tried, no? Enjoy!

**Disclaimer**: I don't own own Kingdom Hearts, The Sandman, Bedknobs and Broomsticks, or any of the characters from them. Yeah, just go right ahead and rub it in my face, why don't ya?

-----

"You let him di-ie..."

Sky blue eyes narrowed in frustration as Luxord turned away from the taunting sing-song voice, occupying himself with looking around the town house. The very empty, run down town house. He was sure he had never been there before, and yet, there was something just vaguely familiar about it. Like it had come from some long forgotten memory.

Or, maybe not so much forgotten as pointedly ignored.

Whatever the reason for the feeling, it was quickly shrugged off. It was probably nothing. It always was. With that thought in mind, the gambler made his way to the door--it was the only door there, but he was almost _positive _it wasn't the way he had come-- and stepped outside.

He was immediately met with the sight of the abandoned, bombed out town of Lewisham.

There was a pause. Almost hesitantly, the blonde stepped out onto the ruined streets, looking around the area with an expression of what could have been shock, could have been disgust. Or maybe it was both. His eyes fell on a fallen street sign.

Winchfield Road.

Cursing his horrible luck at winding up back there, of _all_ places, he looked back at the town house he had just left.

House number eight.

Emelius Browne.

There was the faint sound of footsteps approaching from behind, followed by a voice thick with cruel amusement.

"He counted on you, you know. You were one of the few he trusted."

With a frustrated groan, the Nobody whipped around.

Much to his surprise, and maybe even slight horror, the Gambler of Fate suddenly found himself, not in Lewisham, but caught up in the lively bustle of a town much farther into London. One that hadn't yet been eradicated by war.

He hated this place. More than anything. The years he'd spent struggling to make a decent living...the only good thing to ever come of that place was that that had been where he had met Emelius Browne. A would-be-magician, making his living as a conman. Their friendship had been a fluke; the two met with each trying to con the other out of money that they didn't have. But neither had complained. Indeed, Browne was _much_ better company than most. And good company was something the blonde had desperately needed in those days. Almost unconsciously, Luxord began searching the crowd for his old friend. He didn't know why. It was moot point, after what had happened...

...What _had_ happened?

A hand clamped down firmly on the blonde's shoulder, rudely pulling him from his thoughts. He caught a brief glimpse of white hair and sunglasses as the figure leaned over his shoulder and--in what seemed to be three different voices, one after the other-- hissed excitedly into his ear.

"He taught you everything he knew, didn't he? He helped you out, got you back on your feet. And how'd you repay him?"

The blonde swung around once more, only to find himself alone. Completely and utterly. He was still in the same spot, but something was...wrong. The people. The hundreds of people that had been milling the streets just moments before had vanished, as if they had never been there at all.

"He disappeared for weeks. And when he finally came back, he told you he was leaving _again_; joining the military. It's natural that you felt betrayed."

Down the street, a white haired figure disappeared into an alley.

"After all, you were only human."

A shadow had fallen over the town.

Somewhere, miles off, a siren wailed, followed by a distant explosion.

Then came another. This one closer to home.

And Luxord suddenly remembered just why he had forgotten these memories in the first place. The blonde quickly turned and took off down the street, thoughts flying frantically through his head. It couldn't happen. Not again. He had to get out before--

Someone behind him, much farther down the street behind him, shouted out to him. Called his name. One Luxord had almost forgotten he ever had. In his mind he was screaming at himself to keep running. Don't look, keep running, you'll be fine soon.

Bright blue eyes looked back. Down the road, an older man called out to him, waving his hat in one hand while clutching a large suitcase in the other.

"Ludro!"

He wanted to turn around. To yell and rant (_what are you doing why are you here go back dammit emilius bombers are flying this way hurry leave RUN_) and send him away.

But he didn't. It wasn't real, after all. It couldn't be.

"Ludro, wait!"

There was an explosion, this time only streets away. Luxord was almost knocked off his feet as the ground shook. From the pained yelps behind him, Browne had experienced just that.

A loud cracking sound echoed through the air, followed closely by the sound of a brick wall crumbling apart. He remembered exactly where the wall landed, what happened next. The shouts behind him cut off, buried somewhere beneath the falling debris.

And suddenly, Luxord found himself breaking down. Only, it was no longer him. His legs strained to run as fast as they could, but he wasn't moving them. He was driven by an intense fear that wasn't his own. It was as if he had suddenly been shoved into the passenger seat, and was merely along for the ride.

In a dirty window he passed, he caught the reflection of a terrified young man, sandy blonde hair falling messily into his face as he ran, blue-gray eyes wide with panic.

Then the reflection was gone. Luxord found himself running down a small side alley, no longer having any idea where he was or where he was going.

Something appeared in his path. Had he been in control of his actions, the obstacle could have easily been avoided. Unfortunately, whoever was driving was too distracted to notice.

The blonde's foot caught against the large object, sending him sprawling to the ground with a grunt. Groaning, he sat up, looking back to see what had tripped him.

He wished he hadn't.

Luxord was stunned.

_Ludro_, however, was absolutely horrified.

There was a low chuckle from someone standing just behind him.

"Such a shame, no?"

Luxord didn't respond. Not that he really could. His eyes were glued to Browne's bloody, mangled body.

Well, at what was left of it.

But, it couldn't...the wall. He was crushed back there, under the wall. He couldn't...

The gambler couldn't hold his thoughts. Everything was quickly swept away in a wave of fresh panic. The memory of Ludro's reaction to Browne's death. A memory that came up so _strong_, the feelings seeming so _real_.

There was a quiet shuffle behind the Nobody, and a white haired figure clad in jeans and a t-shirt stepped forward. He passed by Luxord as if he wasn't even there, and stood next to the disfigured corpse of the former conman.

"He went looking for you, you know," the man said conversationally, peering down at the corpse from behind mirrored sunglasses. With the toe of his boot, the white haired man nudged at the nearest crushed appendage none to gently --it could've been Browne's head, or maybe a part of the torso; there was too much blood to tell-- a twisted smirk crossing his face.

"After you ran off. That's the only reason he didn't clear out with everyone else when he had the chance."

The man took a step back toward Luxord. Luxord quickly tried to scoot away. The blonde made it scant centimeters before he hit a wall. He _knew_ for a _fact_ that hadn't been there a moment ago.

Luxord grew slightly anxious, though it paled in comparison to the sheer panic he was feeling from Ludro.

The white haired man sauntered over with a grin, crouching when he reached the blonde. He seemed to study the gambler for a moment, looking very much like a wolf that had just run down a deer, and was deciding on which limb it wanted to tear off first.

"You were like a brother to him, after all. He couldn't very well leave without knowing if you were all right."

A small pang of guilt rose from somewhere in the back of the gambler's mind. He tried to convince himself that it, like every other emotion thus far, wasn't his.

He was only half right.

"So, it's basically all your fault he's dead. Just makes you feel all warm and fuzzy inside, doesn't it?"

Luxord was desperately trying to regain some amount of control over his unresponsive body. If he could just reach into his pocket and grab his cards, he could wipe that crazed smirk off the man's face...

The gambler flinched when the man suddenly reached over and brushed something away from the corner of the blonde's eye. Luxord was...crying? No, that couldn't be right.

"Of course, compared to what happened to you later that night? Frankly, I'd say Mr. Browne here got off lucky." The man continued to gently brush the tears away, expression softening into a mockery of sympathy.

"Must be nice, knowing that you got to go on after all that's happened. However pitiful an existence it is." He cupped the side of Luxord's face, thumb gently tracing the curve of the blonde's eyelid. The man's other hand reached up to remove his sunglasses, eyes closed as he shook his head, smirking.

"I can help. If you want. I can take the memories away...and then some..." He opened his eyes...only, he had none. Two dark hallows in place of where they should have been, empty save for the sets of teeth lining each socket. Mouths in place of eyes. Both seeming to share the same disturbing grin, both promising that this wouldn't end well for the one the grins were aimed at. Before Luxord could even register what was going on, the hand on his face had shifted, sharp nailed fingers digging into the skin around his eye. Sharp nailed fingers trying to dig _through_ the skin, _to_ his eye. Three identical grins all but widened as the gambler cried out.

"_How about it_?"

-----

Luxord woke up in a cold sweat, and with a strangled grunt he sat striaght up in bed, hands flying up to protect himself from his nightmareish attacker. Only, there was no longer anyone to protect himself from. After several deep breaths, the gambler had managed to calm down, though his thoughts were still running through his head at a mile a minute.

Just a dream. He could feel himself grinning, nervous laughter breaking through. Of course. Just a dream, and nothing more...though, he had to admit. Dreams like _that_, he could do without. Memories like that should remain forgotten. He had kept them up on a shelf throughout all these years; why would they resurface now? And it felt so _real_...

Still chuckling to himself, as though that alone would keep his nerves in check, Luxord slowly began to lay back down. But then he stopped. Something dripped down his cheek and onto his pillow, leaving a dark stain where it landed. Bright blue eyes narrowed slightly as a another stain joined it soon after.

Somewhat hesitently, the blonde rose a hand up to his face, brushing his fingers under his eye.

They came back tipped in blood.


End file.
